just desserts
by kyleisgod
Summary: A series of dessertthemed oneshots. Gay and straight pairs included. CartmanWendy, StanKyle, TweekGary, KennyBebe. Read and review!
1. cake: cartman and wendy

1Author's Note: I hope you all like this little experiment. "Just Desserts" is a series of dessert-themed oneshots. Gay and straight pairings included. I may continue this series if enough people like it, and/or if I get ideas for other desserts/pairings that could be put together. Read and review please.

And don't worry, I'm still working on "Dance With The Devil" too. :)

CHAPTER ONE: Wendy/Cartman. Cake.

Wendy sighed as she entered the restaurant. She didn't know why she'd even agreed to come in the first place. Cartman left her a note telling her to show up, and there she was without so much as a single question. How such an evil, manipulative person managed to hold such power over so many people, Wendy didn't have the slightest clue. She did know one thing however. She knew she wanted to harness Cartman's incredible powers of persuasion for her own benefit. She would do good things with such powers though, unlike him. At least that's what she told herself. That was probably why she'd shown up. She wanted to get closer to Cartman only to discover how he did what he did. It _had_ to be the reason she'd came to meet him. What else could it be?

She was about to request a place to sit when she heard the fat boy call out. "Over here!" he said. Unbelievable! The presumptive bastard had already gotten a table. He knew she'd show up even before she had decided for herself. Why did she let him do these things to her? She didn't even know _why_ she was supposed to meet him here.

"Let's get right to the point," Wendy said as she sat down across from Cartman at the table. "What do you want from me?"

Cartman flashed a seemingly innocent smile Wendy's way. His tone of voice became syrupy sweet as he spoke. "Now now, is that any way to talk to a man who's about to get you what you love?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Can I take your order?" the server suddenly asked, interrupting their conversation.

"We'll split a pizza," Cartman decided on Wendy's behalf. "Oh, and um, it's our anniversary today. Does your fine establishment do anything special for that?"

The server smiled. "Yes sir. Actually our wait staff will sing to you, and you'll get a free piece of cake."

"Really?" Cartman said with feigned surprise. "Wow that's so kewl."

"I'll go get your order," the server said. He walked away.

Wendy just stared after the man, looking confused about what just happened. She turned back to face Cartman and resumed her usually stern facial expression.

"What was that about? Look Cartman, if you're trying to bribe me with food so I'll help you kill someone-"

"No one has to die for this plan to work," Cartman assured her.

"_What_ plan?" she demanded to know.

Cartman reached into his pants pocket, producing a small, folded piece of paper. He unfolded the paper onto and across the table, letting Wendy take a look at it. It was a map. Cartman looked around, making sure no one was within earshot, and continued.

"We can get free cake for the rest of our lives," he began.

Wendy rolled her eyes. "You brought me here to talk about cake? You fat ass!"

"Wait! Just hear me out on this. I know that you're the only one who can help me pull this off."

"Why me?"

"...Because" was all he could think of to say in response.

"What is this thing?" Wendy wondered.

"It's a map of every restaurant in the tri-city area. I've checked it out. All the places I've marked on here give out free pieces of cake for things like birthdays, anniversaries, whatever. So, if we go into these places and tell them it's _our_ anniversary, we'll be eating free cake the rest of our lives!"

"Our anniversary?"

"That's the catch," Cartman explained. "We'd have to pretend to be a couple. I know it's not going to be easy for either of us, but it's a small price to pay for free cake. For the scam to work best we'd have to only eat at one of these places, say, once a month. We start here, move west to the next restaurant on the map, and go from there. By the time we start all over again they've forgotten all about us. What do you say?"

Wendy looked down at the map. She blinked. She looked back up at Cartman and blinked again. Then, she stood up from the table.

"You bastard! I'm not going to pretend to be your girlfriend to get -cake-!"

"Shh!" Eric hushed her, not wanting her to blow the scheme. "We'll split every piece," Cartman bargained in an angry whisper.

"No" she repeated firmly.

"Why not?" Cartman asked, now in more of a whining tone. "You love cake too. It's your favorite dessert after double-stuffed Oreos," he reminded her.

Wendy softened a bit. She was both surprised and impressed that Cartman knew her two favorite desserts. Then again, if there's one thing he'd remember about her, it would be the food she ate.

"It's still stealing, Cartman. I'm not going to lie about having a boyfriend just because they'll give me a free piece of cake for it."

Cartman sighed. "Why do you always, _always_ have to do the right thing and screw up my genius plans? You work hard. You get straight A's. You've earned everything your whole life. You deserve something to be handed to you for once. You deserve that free cake as much as any woman in a real relationship. More even. Are you telling me some skank who hasn't gotten caught cheating on her husband yet deserves cake as much as you? Someone who doesn't work hard like you do? I want you to have that cake Wendy. I want -us- to have that cake. This is bigger than both of us. Don't fight it."

Wendy frowned slightly. God dammit, Cartman was doing it again! He was charming her. He was making her think of bending to his will. Truth be told, she -did- want that free cake. Wendy knew even more than Cartman just how hard she worked. How she far too often had to put aside things like entertainment or a social life in order to write another award-winning paper or organize another protext to save some animal. She knew first-hand that she deserved to indulge now and then. She was, usually, an extremely moral person. Her sweet tooth was her one constant weakness. So long as she kept herself in decent shape, why the hell should she have to fight -that- urge too?

Because, inside, she knew what Cartman was proposing still wasn't right. Wendy hated her conscience sometimes.

"I'm leaving," Wendy decided.

Cartman reached across the table, taking hold of her arm to prevent her from moving away. "I'm trying to hook you up here. Now sit down and let's talk about this some more."

Wendy glared at Cartman. She successfully grabbed one of the knives on their table. Cartman's hand released Wendy's arm and pulled away just before the blade of the knife could make contact with his skin. She drove the knife straight into the table instead.

"I'm not your bitch, so don't you _dare_ touch me or tell me to sit and stay! I'm also not your girlfriend Cartman, which means I wouldn't be earning that cake. And believe me, if I _were_ ever dating you, I'd _deserve_ something for free for all the crap I'd have to put up with!"

"AYE! You wanna stab me ho? Fine! Go ahead! Stab me and drink the blood you thirst for from mah body. But you know what my blood -won't- taste like when you're done Wendy? It won't taste like sweet, delicious frosting."

Wendy stayed put. Cartman had a point with those last three words, which he intentionally emphasized and stretched out for effect. It must have worked, because Wendy sat back down.

Cartman's tone softened, trying to be more encouraging. "Wendy, this is a golden opportunity. The only thing you should be using that knife for, is cutting _our_ cake in half."

Wendy hesitantly yanked the knife back out and set it down on the table. She still wasn't quite sold.

"I told you, I can't lie. I can't pretend you're my boyfriend when you're not."

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Oh, Jesus Christ. Okay look, if you're gonna be _that_ goody-two shoes about it, why don't we just -become- a god damn couple and then it won't really be lying, okay? We can still go to those places once a month, and then it'll be our monthly anniversary for real, okay?! There! Problem solved! Are you _happy_ now, hippie?"

"MAYBE I Am!" she screamed, now drawing attention from other people in the establishment.

"FINE, SO I GUESS WE'RE A COUPLE NOW!" Cartman screamed back.

"I GUESS SO!"

"FINE!"

"FINE!"

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY THEN!"

"THANK YOU!"

The wait staff stood frozen around the table, their mouths agape in disbelief. Wendy and Cartman's server finally worked up the nerve to speak as he set their slice of anniversary cake down on the table.

"...We'll come back."

The wait staff disappeared quicker than they had appeared. As they looked at the piece of cake left on the table, they both smiled across the table at one another. Cartman was right, as usual. He really had given Wendy what she wanted.

And it wasn't necessarily a piece of cake.


	2. ice cream: stan and kyle

1"Dude, just gimme fifty cents. Please?"

"No, Kyle!"

Stan had been going back and forth on this matter with Kyle for what seemed like hours. For Stan, the line they were standing in just couldn't move fast enough.

"Why the hell not?!" Kyle demanded to know.

"Gee, maybe because I don't want you going into a diabetic coma?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Come on Stan. One little ice cream cone's not gonna kill me."

"Kyle, it's not my fault you don't have enough money, and it's not my fault you're diabetic. I'm getting an ice cream for myself, and then we're going home. End of story dude."

"Fine, be a dick!" Kyle snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest to physically display his unhappiness with the situation.

Stan got himself a plain vanilla ice cream cone. As they walked home together, Kyle continued to fume silently. He watched in anger as Stan's tongue swirled around the cone, getting cool melted vanilla in and around his mouth. He had some nerve eating ice cream right in front of a diabetic sugar-lover like that. Still, Kyle had to admit, Stan looked rather cute with vanilla covering his face like that. It was just like when they were kids. Only now, Kyle could appreciate Stan's cuteness on an entirely new level. His angry face slowly melted into a smile faster than the sun was melting that vanilla, much to his own chagrin. He'd only admit it to himself, but Stan was right. It wasn't Stan's fault he cared too much about Kyle to help him attempt something that might be potentially dangerous. The fact that he cared so much at all touched Kyle inside. It warmed his heart and provided him with a much better feeling than any stupid ice cream cone ever would.

But he still _really_ wanted some fucking ice cream.

They stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for the appropriate time to start moving again. Kyle grinned devilishly and moved up next to Stan, drawing his attention. Before the black-haired boy could say anything, Kyle leaned in and took a quick swipe at the remaining vanilla with his own tongue.

"Dude!" Stan exclaimed in protest. "Don't get your germs on that! That's MY ice cream!"

"Oh grow up. You _could_ have bought me my own," he reminded him.

"And I _would_ have if it wasn't dangerous!"

"I want ice cream!" Kyle demanded. He shoved his tongue inside Stan's cone, licking away quickly before Stan pulled the tasty treat away.

"Well you can't have any!" Stan insisted. "Stop it Kyle! Jesus!"

"You can't stop me Stan!"

"I can if there's no ice cream left, asshole!"

Stan's tongue started to frantically lap up what was left of the cone. Kyle did the same. Each boy furiously attacked the cone together, both their faces becoming coated in vanilla. They tried to nibble and lick at different sides of the cone, but eventually the inevitable occurred.

Their tongues touched.

It was accidental. At least the first time was. The second time, Kyle's mouth headed straight for the same last bit of vanilla that Stan's mouth was aiming for. Both believed the other was trying to psyche him out. Neither one cared that their lips might potentially touch. It was worth it to get that ice cream, and the other would surely back out anyway.

Neither one backed down. Their mouths touched, and it felt good. Better than ice cream. Their eyes opened in surprise, and they paused for a moment. Then, they remembered that there was a race to be won. The ice cream totally melted, they began to bite at the cone. As it got smaller, their lips got closer. Their mouths pressed together again and again with neither boy giving an inch or minding for a second.

Once the ice cream cone was completely gone, the boys laughed. Their shirts and faces were totally covered in sticky vanilla, and they were both greatly amused. The fact that they had put on this very gay, very insane display in front of many passing cars made it all the funnier.

Then the laughter stopped. They stared at each other. To this day, they don't know for sure if Stan or Kyle moved in first for the non-competitive kiss, but it didn't matter. The point is the other boy returned it. Passionately and eagerly. Their tongues wrestled briefly, cleansing each other's faces of the ice cream before the crosswalk finally gave them permission to move. Panting, they pulled away from one another.

"Come on!" Stan commanded once his tongue had returned back inside of his own mouth. He certainly didn't have to tell Kyle twice.

They raced for the Marsh house, practically tearing their shirts off once they were safely indoors. To throw them in the wash and get out the vanilla stains, of course.

By the time the night was over, Kyle and Stan had no doubt successfully burned off the calories the ice cream had packed onto their bodies.


	3. coffee: tweek and gary

1Author's notes: For those who don't remember, Gary was the Mormon kid in "All About Mormons." I actually don't like the ending of this, but I'm proud of this chapter. I'm surprised I got so much material out of such a unique pairing. Also, I know coffee doesn't count as much of a dessert. But I did try to mention coffee-flavored desserts, so that sort of counts right? Anyway, read and review. :P

Tweek Tweak was never introduced to much religion growing up. His parents would occasionally take him to church and tell him he was Catholic, but they were far too busy handling the family coffee business to regularly participate in any type of religious practice with their son. As he got older, Tweek began to develop an interest in the subject of religion. He learned quickly that not subscribing to some sort of faith in his small town made him somewhat of an outcast. He also had no clue what his parents' faith believed in. That was way too much pressure, Tweek decided. He needed to find out what -he- actually believed in religiously.

Not knowing which faith was the one for him, Tweek began going around his school and asking the openly religious students about what they believed. He hoped that he would soon find the right path to happiness. He started his questioning with Kyle Broflovski. That turned out to be a bust. There were a lot of rules associated with being a Jew. Foods you couldn't eat and such. Tweek couldn't take it. Catholicism, the religion he was somewhat raised on, was also out. Priest scandals were known throughout the world, and Tweek didn't care to take that risk. Satanism was out because of all the burning and torture involved.

It appeared Tweek would never find a group to belong to, until one day he came upon Gary Harrison in the hallway.

"Hi!" Gary exclaimed in a chipper tone.

"AH!" Tweek responded with a slight jump backward.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"Um, can I ask you about your religion?" Tweek asked nervously.

"Sure!!"

"GAH! Don't do that man!"

"You should come over to my house tonight for family home evening. My dad loves reading stories from the book of Joseph Smith."

"Your house?" Tweek put his hand to his mouth, anxiously biting his nails. "I don't know."

Gary laughed. "It'll be fine. We don't bite."

"I...I guess so."

"Great!"

Tweek leapt back again as Gary left for class.

That night, Tweek did show up to the Harrison residence. They had dinner, played games, and most importantly to Tweek, read from the book of Mormon.

"And that's how Mormonism works!" the father of the family said as he closed the book.

While the Harrisons were all smiles, Tweek was not. He stared at the Mormon family, utterly perplexed.

"I don't understand," he replied with a nervous twitch.

"That's okay. What part aren't you understanding?" Gary asked him.

"Well, you said your religion can't have caffeine."

"Right, no caffeine for us," Mister Harrison said.

Tweek blinked. "But, doesn't that mean you can't have coffee?"

"Right" Gary said.

"...Ever?!"

"Nope, never."

"...Dude, you can't _not_ drink coffee!"

The Mormon family laughed in unison.

"Sure we can!" the father said happily.

Tweek's jaw dropped. How was it possible? How could anyone _not_ drink coffee? Worse yet, how could anyone make it a religious -rule- to not drink coffee? It just wasn't right. Tweek began to tremble slightly. What if these non-coffee drinking cult maniacs somehow converted him? He couldn't take that risk.

"I have to go now!"

"So soon?" mother Harrison questioned. "We haven't even had our sing along yet."

"No thank you! I _have_ to go!" Tweek insisted with another twitch.

"Aww!" the family groaned.

"Well, okay. I'll see you in school tomorrow," Gary said.

"Oh god" Tweek muttered to himself as he bolted for the door.

Gary didn't see Tweek at school the next day after all. Or the day after that. Or the one after that. Tweek was clearly avoiding Gary, and Gary wanted to know why.

Word around town was that Tweek had a part-time job helping his family after school. He couldn't run away or blend in with a crowd of people if he was confronted there. The Mormon boy knew this and walked to the Tweak family coffee house, ready to give Tweek a similar speech to the one he gave Stan Marsh several years ago.

The scent of freshly-brewed coffee filled his nostrills as he approached the counter. He had to admit it smelled rather inviting. Especially considering the fact that it was a hot beverage in an often snowy town. The boy shook his head clear and took a seat at the front counter, trying to remain focused.

"Hello sir. Is Tweek here?" Gary asked.

Mister Tweak called to the back for his son. "Tweek!"

"GAH!" Tweek responded.

"There's a customer out here who wants to see you!"

Tweek came to the front. He frowned when he noticed Gary was the one waiting for him. Tweek grabbed his order-taking pen and pad out of habit, but he was far too extra jittery at the moment to write anything down.

"Oh, hi Gary. Um, c-can I take your order?"

"No thank you. I just came here to say you can stop avoiding me at school. You don't like my religion and that's fine. If you're too petty to see past that, I don't want you as a friend."

"I want to be your friend," Tweek said.

"You do?" Gary raised a surprised eyebrow.

"Yeah. I even liked your religion. It sounds really nice. I just, don't want Mormonism to make me hate coffee."

It was then that Mister Tweak contributed his two cents to the conversation.

"Son, you can still be Mormon and drink coffee. They used to tell Catholics not to eat meat on Fridays, so we ate fish instead. After a while people just sort of forgot about that rule."

Gary and Tweek both looked at Mister Tweak in puzzlement.

"You can do that?" his son asked.

"Of course. One of the reasons religion has so many different sects of the same faith is because people interpret things differently. Some people strictly follow everything their religion says, and some don't because they disagree with it. You can even go so far as to form your own religion. That's the good thing about religious freedom boys. You can pretty much do whatever you want as long as you say it's one of your religious beliefs."

"Well, I think it'd be neat if Tweek was Mormon."

"I'd like that too Gary," Tweek said. "But I -can't- give up coffee!"

"I don't understand. What's the big deal about coffee?"

Both the Tweaks gasped. "What's the big deal about coffee?!" they parroted in astonishment.

"My god, this child is deprived!" the elder Tweak said. "Get this boy some coffee! Quick!"

"I'm not supposed to do that."

"Hey, my son is trying to learn your family's beliefs. You should learn ours too."

Gary bit his bottom lip unsurely. "Well, I guess that'd be fair. But, just only a -little- coffee, okay?"

"Of course" Mister Tweak assured.

There was once a time when the sizes of things were small, medium, and large. Unfortunately for Gary, sizes went up along with the appetites and waistlines of Americans. The new standard was now large, extra large, and double XL. What was labeled as a "small" cup of coffee was actually a very big size. Gary was sure he'd only be able to drink a few sips worth.

Ten minutes later, the cup was empty and the Mormon boy was begging for a refill.

Tweek officially announced himself as a Mormon after a few weeks, while Gary officially became a regular drinker of coffee. The boys took the advice of Mister Tweak and created their own faith. Their version of Mormonism was simply a form which allowed its members to consume coffee. It was a win/win situation for both of them.

Meanwhile, Tweek and Gary became friends. Then best friends. They taught each other more about coffe and faith respectively. One night, the two-person religion loaded up on caffeine and continued their enlightenment of one another. Tweek taught Gary about other forms of coffee such as coffee cakes and coffee ice cream, while Gary told Tweek about some of the more interesting rules of Mormonism. Among them, the rules about gay relationships and pre-marital sex not being allowed. The boys decided those rules were stupid in a modern world, and deemed them okay in their own private faith.

Later that same night, the Mormon best friends became Mormon lovers.


	4. pie: kenny and bebe

1Kenny didn't know shit about writing essays. The only reason he agreed to help Bebe with her thesis paper was to eventually offer to distract her from the homework and get down her pants. He suspected that the only reason she asked him to help in the first place was because she _knew_ he'd do this, and therefore she wanted her pants to be gotten into.

As it turned out though, Bebe _did_ expect Kenny to actually help her write.

"I need to explain why genitals shouldn't be called food anymore."

"...What?"

"You know how people talk about private parts with food metaphors? I think that's stupid."

"..._That's_ what your essay is on?!"

"Yeah."

Kenny smirked. "Dude! You're like, the coolest girl in the world!"

Bebe smiled back at him. "Thanks. Now help me write this."

"I don't know what to say," he admitted honestly.

"I already have an opening. I just need to add more stuff. I start it off by talking about how vaginas are called pies."

"What's wrong with that?"

"It makes no sense, that's what. For one thing, you don't literally -eat- what girls have. You _chew_ on pie and _stab_ it with a fork."

Kenny saw this as a flirtatious opportunity. He moved the kitchen table chair he was sitting on closer to Bebe's chair. With a grin he said "But you can still cover them both in whipped cream."

"But you wouldn't put everything on a girl that you might put on a pie. Whipped cream is easy because you just lick it off and it's sexy. But I bet you wouldn't put ice cream down there."

Kenny blinked. "God damn. You've really thought this through huh?"

"I have to. It's an essay."

"Well, you can't just say the metaphors don't make sense. If I say I wanna squeeze your melons and you aren't holding melons, you know what I'm talking about."

"And if I say I wanna give you a handjob, you know what _I'm_ talking about. Why can't we just say what we mean?"

"Because it's innuendo. It's classier to say that sort of shit than just saying you wanna fuck someone."

"But you _are_ just saying you wanna fuck someone. If I said I wanted your hot dog in my bun, it's the same thing as saying I want you screwing me. Even if it's classy to be subtle about it, there's no subtlety there."

"So what is subtle?"

"Lots of stuff. Offering to let a date come upstairs to your apartment to have coffee. Or, offering to buy a girl a drink. Or-"

"Or inviting a guy over to your house to help you write a boring paper?" Kenny asked with raised, hopeful eyebrows.

"Exactly" Bebe replied with a sly wink.

Kenny licked his lips. "Wanna write all that down and have sex?"

"Sure, but can we get something to eat first? I'm starving!"


End file.
